


To a Lady in her Shield

by mnemosyne



Category: Merlin (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-03
Updated: 2013-04-03
Packaged: 2017-12-07 10:07:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/747291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mnemosyne/pseuds/mnemosyne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written around end of S2, so quite jossed by canon. Futurefic - Lancelot returns to Camelot, visiting Arthur and Guinevere, with his wife and child.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To a Lady in her Shield

He'd always had a brilliant smile. There were more lines on his face now, but she was pleased to see that the important ones were even deeper than ever. His laughter echoed warmly as he plucked his young son from the ground and bounced him onto his knee.  
  
“He's beautiful,” said Gwen, holding out one hand to the child, who regarded it with an expression of frank interest before taking hold of her fingers. They smiled at each other.  
  
“Takes after his mother,” Lancelot replied, before adding a thoughtful “thankfully.”   
  
“He doesn't really look like you,” she agreed, then, “well, she's blonde, and you're not, and-”  
  
“You saw Elaine,” his voice was tinged with amusement, “I'm not sure our Galahad could look more like her if he was born female.”  
  
Gwen rested her hands behind her on the low stone wall he was perched upon. It was warm out, and she crushed blossom beneath her fingers as she leaned back, eyes closed and soaking in the afternoon sun. She had always loved the spring. Beside her, the little boy chattered happily in a language neither adult understood.   
  
“And he will be a knight,” she said, “just like his father.”  
  
Lancelot laughed, “I'm not a knight yet.”  
  
“You will be tomorrow,” Gwen offered him a small smile, “as you should have been a long time ago.”  
  
“That was then.”  
  
“That was then,” she agreed, “it's all changed now, thank goodness.”  
  
He was silent for a moment, staring thoughtfully across the field, one arm curled protectively around his son, the other dangling, hand resting just too close to Gwen's to be anything but deliberate. She let them stay there, allowed herself to indulge in a memory for a few moments longer. Gwen had never been prone to regrets and she felt none, but if her expression was softer when she looked at him again, it was only nostalgia and the thought of what once might have been that stirred it.  
  
“My queen,” Lancelot murmured, his eyes, still so soft and unsure as she had remembered them, gazing at her. Gwen flushed a little and looked away.  
  
“Camelot is very changed,” she said hurriedly, “I think it's happier now, do you find that? People seem happier, I think...” Her voice trailed, as Lancelot closed his long fingers around hers. She could feel every callous the sword made, could track each one to its stroke. Arthur's hands felt the same.  
  
“If it is happier, it's because you have made it so.”  
  
“ _Arthur_ 's done it, not me.”  
  
“He couldn't have done it without you.” Lancelot's hand tightened over hers. “You know that's true.”  
  
Galahad chose that moment to reach up and tug on his father's hair and Lancelot's surprised wince broke the moment. Gwen released his hand as he tried to disentangle himself from his son's grip. Gwen's heart ached suddenly at the scene and her hand rubbed unconsciously over her abdomen. The latest child had not survived either. For just a second she wondered what Elaine's life was like, raising this child with this man she loved.   
  
Just for a second.  
  
***  
  
The sun beat through the windows the next day as Lancelot kneeled before his monarchs and accepted the touch of the sword upon his shoulders. Behind him, Elaine watched the Queen, as she held her little one tight in her arms. Though she smiled, Elaine's heart could not help aching; she had never imagined the Queen so lovely, so open as she had been. She had hoped to hate her.  
  
But she could not, and as a page stepped forward to give Sir Lancelot his shield; the court cheered, the king beamed and his queen smiled that beautiful smile of hers. Elaine held her son close and allowed the proud tears to roll down her cheeks as she went forwards to kiss her husband, and realised that she didn't care a jot for the shield's too honest reflection.   
  
***  
  
“It's a lovely day, don't you think? Very warm for spring!”  
  
Gwen started slightly and turned her head towards the voice; she smiled as Elaine stepped into view and laughed as the lady curtseyed towards her.  
  
“It's warm for summer; I'm afraid I don't look very regal,” Gwen said, waving her hands to indicate her bare feet, dangling in the shallow stream. Elaine grinned, and sat down beside her, kicking her own jewelled shoes off in the grass beside them.  
  
“You look sensible,” she told her, splashing her toes, “which I think's more important.”  
  
“It's too hot for me,” Gwen confided, “and whoever invented these complicated dresses ought to be hanged.” She tugged at a sleeve. “I might issue a royal decree banning them.”  
  
“You have my full support,” remarked Elaine dryly. Her skirts hiked up above her knees, she was suddenly aware of what a picture she must look. The realisation made he laugh out loud. “I am glad that my husband is not here to see this.”  
  
“I don't think Lancelot would mind,” replied Gwen. Elaine's smile faltered slightly.  
  
“I suppose you are right.”  
  
There was an awkward silence for a few moments, broken only by the chatter of birds in the trees above. Gwen leaned back, shading her eyes and trying to look more comfortable than she felt. The air was heavy today, no amount of cool water could help.  
  
“He loves you still, you know,” Elaine said suddenly, her voice free from malice. When Gwen turned to look at her, she found the other woman staring distantly through the trees. Gwen's mouth quirked into a small smile.  
  
“I know,” she admitted.  
  
“Do you love him?”  
  
She'd had years to think on this question, had spent many hours pondering it, over and over as a maid, then over again as queen. She had never voiced it, though in those times, she had often caught Arthur watching her, a resigned expression on his face. His eyes would break her from her thoughts and the fresh surge of affection would restore the balance to her heart.  
  
“Yes,” she said simply, “I love him.”  
  
The stream burbled gently, catching the edge of Gwen's skirts, trailing the grey silk ribbons through the water like smoke. Gwen watched them move in the water.  
  
“I thought so,” Elaine told her, and caught hold of the wet ribbons, deftly tossing them back onto the bank. She waited for the queen to remark on the impropriety, but nothing was forthcoming. Her brow knitted into a small frown. “Do you believe in destiny?”   
  
Gwen shook her head, thoughtfully. “I believe in people,” she said at last. Elaine nodded. Gwen reached out and took her hand gently, rubbing her thumb over the soft skin. Elaine could still feel the strength in them, the solid roughness that few ladies' hands would ever feel.  
  
“Our chance was gone long ago,” Gwen continued, “by Lancelot's choice. Perhaps things would have been different once, but we were all different people once.”  
  
“Better people?”  
  
“Just different. Who can say?”  
  
Elaine bit her lip and Gwen moved her hands up, pulling the other woman into a tight embrace. She rested her head on the blonde curls. Elaine buried her face in Gwen's shoulder, twining her arms about her waist as if they had not met mere days before.  
  
“I don't think I mind, if he loves you best,” she said at last. Gwen squeezed her gently.  
  
“Don't be silly, Elaine.” Her voice was low, quiet almost as the breeze. “The heart is not so simple as that. Do you love him any less now you have Galahad?”  
  
If they had not been so tightly held together, Gwen might have missed the tiny shake of Elaine's head. Releasing her, almost resting their foreheads together she smiled again.  
  
“I don't know much about love,” she said, “but I know you cannot guess at it. If I did not love Arthur, if Lancelot did not love Arthur, we would not have gotten to here. And if he did not love you, you would not have been married.”  
  
Elaine returned her smile, slightly shadowed by the drawn brow, “I think I always knew that,” she said, “but it is good to hear you say it.” Impulsively, she darted forwards, brushing her lips across Gwen's cheek.  
  
“I didn't think we could be friends,” she admitted, “I was wrong about that.”  
  
In response, Gwen splashed her skirt and glanced at her with a questioning, mischievous expression. Elaine paused, stared at the stream, then back up at Gwen.   
  
“I take it back,” she said, scooping up water. “It's a blood feud!”  
  
Hours passed before two young noblewomen stumbled up Camelot's steps, arm in arm. The few looks they received were quickly squashed by the escort of guards (though the people of Camelot were sure they had never seen them laughing so much before).  
  
***  
  
On the morning of Elaine and Lancelot's departure, the royal couple stood together, supervising the last of the caskets as they were loaded onto carriages. Every so often, Gwen would leap forwards and rearrange things, quietly pointing out losses of efficient space. Elaine's servants would grumble under their breath and start moving boxes, but their words lacked any real feeling.   
  
“I hope it will not be so long before you return next time, Sir Lancelot,” said Arthur, clapping Lancelot's shoulder. His broad grin was returned by Lancelot's own.  
  
“I daresay not,” Lancelot replied, “and I think Elaine would never forgive me if it were so.” He squeezed his wife's waist with affection.   
  
“I'm not sure the castle can cope with you and my queen together again,” Arthur told her seriously, making a face. Galahad, balanced on Lancelot's shoulders, made a grab for the king's crown, and made a noise of pleased surprise with Arthur took it off and handed it to him. Elaine raised her eyebrow.  
  
“He can't hurt it,” Arthur said, and his expression shifted suddenly, “can he?”  
  
“I doubt it, sire,” Elaine responded. Galahad was busily trying to stuff the crown in his mouth.  
  
“I think you should try feeding him,” Gwen said, coming up behind them. She extricated the crown from Galahad's grasp, turning her face up for a kiss, which the young child eagerly offered. She stepped back, stuck out her tongue at him and the child giggled with delight.  
  
“Your belongings are all packed,” she said, adding a very quiet “properly.” Elaine embraced her tightly.  
  
“Write to me,” she demanded, “or else I will have to refuse to leave.”  
  
“I promise.”  
  
With a last grip of Arthur's arm, Lancelot turned and bowed before her, holding out his hands. Gwen took them in her own. “It was good to see you again, my lady Queen.”   
  
“And you, Sir,” she replied, affection tinging her words. “Thank you for bringing your family.”  
  
“It was my pleasure.”  
  
Taking Elaine's arm, Lancelot – Sir Lancelot – led her down the path, his son waving at Gwen and Arthur wildly. Arthur laughed, waving back, one arm tucked firmly around Gwen.  
  
“Are you sorry to see them go?” he asked at last. Gwen rested her head on his shoulder.   
  
“I am,” she said, “but we have more than enough to do to keep us from pining.” She poked him lightly in the ribs and rose on her toes to kiss his cheek; Arthur allowed her to take him back inside the castle.   
  
As the sun rose fully in the sky, and Camelot's daily bustle began in earnest, Lancelot's carriage rolled quietly through the gates.


End file.
